One of my favourite diversions, when stalled on writing, is to search Google Books for examples of the use of similes. I set the search?”, like a”?for books in full view, published between 1600 and 1800.
This is a bit like priming the pump, but I find, in this way, as well, that I learn quite a bit about the period: how rural it generally is, for example, and how thundering the preachers were.
Here’s one charming example:
To know how to Divide one’s Life, like a Man of Tarts.
Many of the images have to do with moon- and starlight; in our well-lit world, we are not as aware of it:
like a gleam of light, amidst the dark verdure of the forest…
like a burning star falling
the moon came out of the sea like a spectre wan and vapoury
Images from the natural world are prominent:
like a woodcock caught in his own springe
like a little mole in the dark
I found him under a tree, like a dropp’d acorn.
stared like a stuck pig
its hair bristling like a hog
like a hare shot in form
like a rapacious vulture
like a beast of prey that tramples and howls
vex’d like a morning eagle
Did I know that eagles were vexed in the morning?
A number call up images of ghosts, spirits and the devil:
glides like a ghost
sneered like a devil
like a demon thing, or shadow hovering
passed from before her eyes like a phantom
I loved this:
that low sweet voice, like a widow’s moan
And this one is a puzzle:
That marriage is just like a Devonshire lane.
Any suggestions?
I just had to look this up since my novel is set in Devon! Perhaps its a reference to the Coleridge poem “Devonshire Roads”? Here’s the second stanza:
Curst road! whose execrable way
Was darkly shadow’d out in Milton’s lay,
When the sad fiends thro’ Hell’s sulphureous roads
Took the first survey of their new abodes;
Or when the fall’n Archangel fierce
Dar’d through the realms of Night to pierce,
What time the Bloodhound lur’d by Human scent
Thro’ all Confusion’s quagmires floundering went.
I’m sure every marriage flounders in a quagmire of confusion from time to time!
Mariska, that’s delicious. I love “Thro’ all Confusion’s quagmires floundering…” A quick Books Google search revealed any number of Devonshire road poems. This could be an anthology. Here’s one by E. Wilson in 1836:
In a Devonshire lane as I wandered along,
One day, much in want of a subject for song,
Thought I to myself, inspired by the rain,
Sure marriage is just like a Devonshire lane.
The poem goes on in this vein, but he’s clearly not a Coleridge.
John Marriot, a friend of Sir Walter Scott, composed a poem on a similar theme, something to do with banks so high they shut beauties out of site (and so were like marriage).
Interesting!
My guess is that a Devonshire lane is a (long and) winding road that always leads to your own door. Just like a Beatles song.
A ha! Thank you.